Playing in the Garden of Grey
by Dryad Druid
Summary: Akahsha was born into Dunmer royalty only to be sold off as a slave. This is a chronicle of her life before and after her freedom. Rated M for strong language, violence, and adult themes.


Prologue – The First Life.

She had woken up from the dream again. It was always the same dream. It was dark and she could only hear a few muddle voices. She remembered the air being humid, though, this time around. That sweet thickness that could only be summer… yeah, she recognized it this time. It was heavy, like a wet blanket, which clung to your skin and made the hair on your body sticky.

She was flying… no wait, falling. And afraid. She remembered being very afraid. As if falling through the thick blackness wasn't scary enough, she knew something else was waiting for her. She remembered her life before this incident, as insignificant as it was. Born a Dark Elf in the province of Morrowind, her mother had sold her when she was very young. A defect within her eye color, her mother shunned her from birth. Unlike the blood red of the upper echelon of her people, she had been born with silver.

"She was born under the stars of Shadow. Look, even the gods cursed her.", she vaguely remembered her mother saying. Barely seeing five winters, her mother sold her off to the nearest slaver. She hardly remembered her mother. Just as well. Her mother never contributed anything worth while in her life, anyway.

"Akahsha…", she heard a voice call out to her. Akahsha. Yes. That is what the humans call her. They couldn't wrap their tongue around the Dunmer language and call her what her mother spat out numerous times. "Ah'kiat'a". It meant Demon. Daedra. She might as well have marked her for death. No one was going to take care of her, now.

Falling through the blackness was oddly comforting to Akahsha. The silent beauty of it nearly drew tears to her eyes. She didn't want to breathe. The sound of it would have shattered the quiet beauty around her. It was enveloping. Comforting. Things she thought being in the womb would be. Only her heartbeat to remind her that it wasn't true "Nothingness".

And before she could get comfortable in the dark embrace of the consistent thud within her breast, she felt her back slam against something hard and cold. All she could do was gasp at the sudden jolt. She had fallen and the ground shattered the stream of consciousness.

The dream ended, as it always had, and she woke up in a pool of her sweat. Her silver eyes blinked for a few moments before realizing that it had been the same dream. She sighed, nearly disappointed. She had hoped there was some truth to it. Her existence was nothing short of dismal, now.

She lay still for a few moments, on her unforgiving burlap sack. Bits of jagged straw were poking through the sack, chafing her dark blue skin. She slowly rose from her makeshift bed and rubbed her arms, trying to get warmth to surge through them. Another day had begun, much to her dismay.

"Akahsha!", she heard a gruff voice call out from a room below. She sighed and rose from her bed. Walking over to a small wash basin, she splashed some cold water on her face and shivered at the sudden shock to her system. Two silver eyes stared vacantly back at her in a crudely cut mirror. She smoothed back her charcoal colored hair and tied it back with a piece of twine. She then slipped on her roughly spun clothes and managed to stagger down the wooden stairs.

"Akahsha, I've been calling you for over a half an hour. I didn't buy you to sleep.", a fat unshaven man barked at her. She looked up for a moment before nodding once and grabbing a mop to start her daily chores. Akahsha had been sold to a Pleasure House, one of the busiest in Anvil. Slavery wasn't completely unheard of, but it was frowned upon, so long as you didn't wear it on your sleeve (as it were).

Much to the innkeeper's chagrin, Akahsha's odd colored eyes freaked out most of the clientele, so any work she would have gotten as a prostitute, went out the window along with his foolish investment. Her clients were few and far between. The few she did retain were voyeurs at the most and whatever those who kept their inner freaks on a very short leash. So, she had to work what they bought her for, in domestic trade. When she wasn't working on her back, she was cleaning up in the front. If she didn't fear death as much as she had, she would have killed herself a long time ago.

"You have a new client coming in tonight, Akahsha. Try not to scare this one away and keep your eyes shut the entire time, hmm? I grow tired of hearing you sweep near the bar.", the man said and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

She quietly leaned the mop against the wall and smoothed her hands on her apron. Then she nodded and silently went in the back to prepare herself for her short termed suitor. The baths for the prostitutes were among the most luxurious in the province. They had to be. The prostitutes were boasted about from the Reed River all the way to the Gold Coast. They were slaves, but among the most exotic and beautiful many have ever seen.

Huge marble tubs sat in the middle of the elaborately decorated room. Steam and perfume choked the air as various whores bathed and prepared themselves for the night. Large red velvet drapes bordered the room and plush chaise lounge chairs lay flush against the wall, with tables strewn with expensive perfume bottles.

Akahsha sat against the marble tub and dipped her hand into the hot water. Feeling the temperature, she added a few drops of orchid scented oil. The fragrant steam tickled her nostrils and she gave a soft smile as she began to undress.

"Have a client tonight, hun?", she heard a familiar voice say. She turned her head to see Molly, the head prostitute, bathing in the tub next to hers.

Akahsha nodded. "A new one, or so I'm told."

"Good for you!", she said taking a sponge and wiping her long pale leg. Molly was the most beautiful woman Akahsha has ever seen. She had long black hair that was kept in silky ringlets and always pulled up. Her piercing blue eyes had an intelligent light, which seemed to beckon anyone to hold a conversation with her. She was buxom, long legged, and utterly stunning. She was the lead prostitute because men would come from miles around just to spend an hour with her. And she was paid very well for her services.

Molly was a slave, like she was. However, for every five hundred coins to come past her, she was allowed one. She was saving up to buy her freedom from Javelin, the innkeeper. Any prostitute to come through the pleasure house was allowed the same courtesy. But you needed clients in order to do so and Akahsha's were few and far between. To make matters worse, because she wasn't as popular as some of the other girls, her price was far cheaper. It made it even more difficult to achieve her freedom.

When Akahsha was done bathing, she chose her clothes for the night. She enjoyed feeling the silk against her skin and vowed that once she bought her freedom, she wasn't going to let anything rough touch her ever again.

Molly sat down next to her and gently took a brush to her hair. Akahsha looked down , ashamed. Molly picked her head up and looked into the mirror with her. "You are beautiful, Akahsha. Don't let anyone tell you different. YOU determine your worth, no one else. That price tag isn't your worth. Your worth is here, " she said pointing to her head ", and here, " pointing to her heart. "Once you believe that, the men will come flocking to your door. I promise you."

Molly walked out and Akahsha was left to stare at herself in the mirror. Two bright silver eyes shined back against her dark blue skin. She applied a little makeup and pulled her hair up. She remembered Molly's words and smiled for a moment. When she looked back at her eye color again, she scowled and took a piece of black linen, to tie it over her eyes. It was thick enough to cover up her color, but allowed her to see what she needed to. She thought she looked beautiful, but as her past has proven time and time again, her eye color always got her into trouble.

She softly wisped her way through the corridors and Javelin pointed to the last door down the hall. She nodded quietly and knocked softly. She heard a gruff grunt in response.

When she opened up the door, an Argonain blinked back at her. Her innards froze and she felt ice shoot through her veins. After all these years, she never forgot the markings. She couldn't. She felt her jaw clench as she stared into the face of the slaver that sold her to the pleasure house.

"Curse the Nine… I wanted a cheap whore, not a blind one!", he spat, obviously drunk. She could smell the cheap ale on his breath.

She mustered up the strength to respond. "I am not blind."

"Then remove your blindfold, girl. I want to see everything I paid for.", he slurred.

"I would rather not, my lord. My eye color offends most people.", she said softly.

The Argonian paused for a moment and looked at her up and down. Had it been that long since he had returned there? He looked at the girl for a moment. She looked to be "woman" enough, young, but definitely a woman. Then he leaned over to her, extending his hand towards the blindfold. "No… it couldn't be…."

He snatched the linen off her face and stared into her eyes. His eyebrows rose. "I'll be damned. Well, look at you, all grown up." She could feel his eyes undress her in a grotesque fashion. She felt her skin crawl and the bile began to shoot up the back of her throat. She took in a deep breath and swallowed.

"I can go and get someone else if you'd rather…", she said turning away.

She felt his scaly hand snake out and grab her by the wrist. "No.", he sniffed, "I paid for you in full and I intend to make sure I get my money's worth." She fluttered her eyelashes down, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks.

He probably would have been an adequate lover, if he weren't slobbering drunk. His hands were clumsy and rough, grabbing at her flesh like a mad dog. He even fumbled removing her scant clothing. She wasn't a virgin. Her virginity was lost to a nameless traveler, years prior. But that night, she felt as though it were her first time. The thought of lying with her slaver made her innards shudder.

She removed his clothing and from what she could tell, he was decent looking. At least this one was clean, she thought. He wasn't a considerate lover, by any means. The moment she undressed him, he was on top of her, ready to get his money's worth. Every thrust, chafed her raw. She bit her lip to hold back the tears. There were times she thought she was going to scream. She had to remind herself it was for her freedom, and it kept the terror at bay.

An hour later, he lay next to her passed out from the evening's previous exercise. When he was done, he simply rolled over and collapsed. She lay very still, careful not to wake him. When his breathing was slower and even, she quietly got up and looked over at him. A snarl tore through her lips and tears stung her eyes. She looked over at his gear in the corner and eyed the dagger sheathed on his belt. Tempting… very tempting.

She walked around the bed silently and bent down to his belt. Her hand found the hilt and she held it for a few moments before unsheathing the blade. It was cold, so very cold. She looked over at the Argonian and clenched her jaw. She raised her hands above her head, the blade pointed down at his neck. Tears streamed down her cheeks and pooled at her chin. Her breathing quickened. Her heart raced and thudded deep in her chest. Her blood held the cool feeling of adrenaline surging through it.

It would be such an easy thing, she thought. My hand would come down, the blade would find its mark… She paused. What would she say to Javelin? She would have to explain why her client was dead in her bed. Her hourly rate would go down even further, making it even harder for her to buy her freedom. No, she thought. In time, she would find a way.

She closed her eyes, feeling defeated and placed the blade back into its sheath. The moment the click sounded, when the hilt met the top of the sheath, the Argonian rolled over and his eyes popped open. A lustful growl tore from his scaly lips.

"You only paid for one, my lord. You are not permitted for another round.", Akahsha said delicately.

"I brought you here, child. I'm permitted for as many times as I like!", he growled. Akahsha knew this was wrong. No matter how good of terms you were with Javelin, no one got a freebie. Ever. And this was a strict rule with the innkeeper. If he found out that the clients were given free services, the girls were whipped. All it took was once, for Akahsha.

She leaped up and straddled the bed, looking down at a very surprised Argonian. He was amazed on how fast she could move. She was inexperienced, however, and with a sweep of his legs, she came toppling down on top of him. She could feel that he was ready for another mounting.

With a scream escaping her lips, she quickly rolled her hips over and reached out to grab the dagger she had sheathed moments prior. He snatched her wrist and pulled it back, pinning her to the bed. With his other free hand, he started to grab at his britches.

"Front or rear, a hole is a hole.", he spat. This angered Akahsha. She was a prostitute but even she could refuse if she felt the need to do so. She somehow managed to slip a hip up and around so that she could turn her body to face him. With her free lower half, she wrapped her legs around the upper body of the Slaver and flipped him on his back. His head smacked against the bed post and blurred his vision.

She didn't waste time. She leaped off the bed and grabbed the dagger, unsheathing it and sat back, waiting.

He got up, shook his head and snarled at her. "You're going to pay for that, you little Dunmer bitch!" He took a flying leap onto the bed. She felt the air rush out of her as his shoulder landed into her stomach. She panicked as she felt her lungs struggle to fill with air. She wasn't sure what drove her arm down. She thought she was just pushing him off of her. When she felt the dagger pierce skin, she froze.

He screamed. She picked up the dagger and came down again, and again, and again. Each time was easier than the last. She had been right. It was such a simple thing. Blood spattered her face, her hair, her clothes, the bed… it was everywhere. His body lay in a twisted heap of meat and blood. The only thing recognizable was his face.

She fell back. The dagger dropped. "What have I done?", she thought. "I took a life. I… I killed someone." Fresh tears streamed down her face. The price for murder, for a slave, was death. She balled her fists and began to beat her head, screaming.

She heard footsteps thunder down the hall. Her breathing was labored, as the air found its way back into her lungs. She heard Javelin call out her name. She managed to just yell. The need for speech didn't seem appropriate just then.

Javelin flung open the door and his jaw dropped on the grotesque scene. "What in the Nine happened?"

Akahsha only stared at the dead body, too scared to even blink. She could understand how her body could continue to make tears if she wasn't afraid or sad. It seemed like such an insignificant thing, yet her mind felt compelled to dwell on it at great lengths.

"Akahsha!", Javelin yelled. She looked blankly at her owner and could only stare in confusion. Molly walked in behind her and looked at the dead body. Without even flinching, she knelt down to Akahsha and looked her over.

"Did he hurt you, honey?", she asked trying to find a bruise.

"No. He didn't pay for a second time.", Akahsha finally said. Javelin looked at the body and grunted. Then he extended his foot and kicked at the bed, making the body fall to the ground.

"Did he get a second go around?", Javelin asked.

Akahsha numbly shook her head. "I just grabbed for his dagger. I don't even know what happened… ", her voice drifted. It sounded so small. As if the sound itself was sucked into the gore around her.

Javelin turned around and started to walk out. "You did the right thing, Akahsha. I'll have someone else clean this up."

Molly put her arms around Akahsha and she just rocked her. All Akahsha could do was stare at the body. She had gotten the revenge she wanted, but it felt hollow, empty. The events were such a blur in her mind, she couldn't savor the taste of the kill. Her body felt numb. Her mind was the only thing in "the now" and even that was touch and go.

"I didn't know you had it in you, kid.", she heard Javelin say from somewhere in the room. As if all at once, her body came back into the moment. Her head swam, thudded with a fresh headache and her stomach turned. She couldn't help herself. She turned her head and retched. Revenge wasn't as sweet as the thought it would have been.


End file.
